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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126349">Smile for the Camera</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlushRabbit/pseuds/PlushRabbit'>PlushRabbit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword &amp; Shield | Pokemon Sword &amp; Shield Versions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, camboy, light degradation, piers is a camboy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:00:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlushRabbit/pseuds/PlushRabbit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Piers has a side gig as a camboy and he's mean to himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nezu | Piers (Pokemon)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Show Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The numbers grow higher and higher until they bleed together, a white blur that makes the back of his head hurt. Hearts are spamming in the corner, filling the edge of the screen, the colors contrasting against the dark room, only illuminated by the glow of the lamp. Money has already started to come in, all with messages of love and admiration to wanting him to start the show and put his prick to use. </p><p>Piers sighs. “All right, all right, I get it.” His hands gripe the bottom of his t-shirt and in a swift movement, it’s discarded on the floor. “Time for the show to begin.” A pierced tongue sticks out with a wicked grin. “I mean, that’s what y'all are here for right?” More hearts and more cash. “To see me use my prick? To beat it in front of  a bunch of fuckin’ pervs?" </p><p>The chat scrolls by, people begging for him to take off more, emojis, strong demands to start the show. </p><p>"Gonna be a short show tonight,” he clicks his tongue, “sorry about that but I got plans.” He winks at the camera, his fore and middle finger positioned into a ‘V’ places itself between his mouth and he sticks his tongue out. “So let’s get this over with, eh?”</p><p>He stands up, the chair rolling across the wooden floorboard. His hands curl under the waistband of the sweats and they’re promptly kicked off. His erection is standing strong, poking through the boxers, equally as excited to begin. </p><p>Piers won’t lie. He enjoys this. He loves knowing that he has power over people and that they’re willing to send him money simply for jerking off on screen. His whole body yearns for the praises that come with when he cums, the private shows where people call him a good boy and send him large tips, where people coo at how pretty he is with his face burning red and his cock twitching around a cock ring. It’s a special type of feeling that makes him eager to return, the thrill of having people begging to meet him, to jerk off to a picture of theirs. It’s enough to make him hard.</p><p>“Hold on,” his voice is low and arrogant, “Should I use a toy this time? Or just my hand?” His slender fingers grip the outline of his cock. “I’ll be nice and let you all decide this time.”</p><p>There’s a rush of comments, sides split as everyone spams their answers. </p><p>He palms himself through the thin fabric, the grey darkening in a spot. “I guess it’s decided.” He removes his briefs, his cock springing to life, pre-cum trickling down his length. “Pocket pussy it is then.” He leans down and opens a drawer. </p><p>The fleshlight comes to view. It’s a light pastel pink  with an even lighter pastel blue that is mixed in, invisible unless fully analyzing it.  The base is large and holds petal-like ridges on the base. The rest of it in smooth rings that add to the pleasure inside- grooves and curves that hug his dick just right. The opening with lips that are a deeper shade of blush with a baby blue outline. The bottle of lube is white and holds a cum like consistency. It’s heavy and creamy, and makes everything slick and click together all much better.</p><p>“Look at how cute she is,” he coos. </p><p>He stands tall, his hair tickles his back swaying in the motion. There’s a splat sound and his palm holds his spit. </p><p>“You all know, I like that tight feel.” His hand grips his member and he tugs on it, the friction is tight and stings with pleasure and pain. “Fuck. I wonder how many of you are tight like this,” he groans, his voice raspy as he puts his focus into pleasuring himself.</p><p>Nimble fingers press and rub over his chest, thumb flicks against his nipple. Fingers press and tweak the bud, massaging at it until it’s stiff beneath his fingertips. Little shivers of pleasure course down to his stomach, the heat pooling and coursing throughout his body. His hand skates over, repeating the process, his chest blooming red with the abuse. </p><p>His hand twists and turns, tugging at his skin and burning with friction. He hisses through his teeth and bends his head down, a mix of snow white hair and deep black cover his face. His eyes are half lidded, a dark shadow over them, cyan colored eyes that are hidden behind dark eyeshadow suddenly pop and gleam with pride. </p><p>“You have no idea how fucking good it feels.” His hand glides down his chest and grips his package, fumbling and jerking on them, letting out a broken groan when he presses hard. Pearl white cream sliding down his cock and disappearing into his palm. “Fuck, I wonder if any of you have a hole this tight. That fake cunt doesn’t even hold this tight.” He glances down at the comment section and barks out a laugh, it’s sharp and humorless. “Yeah, I guess I am a sick fuck. But you’re the one paying for this baby. You and everyone else watching this are just as fucked. You all love to watch me stroke my dick and watch me cum. Ah fuck!” His cock grows harder underneath him, blood rushing and turning the tip of his cock a deep cherry color. He slows his hand down, gritting his teeth as the pleasure that was building up suddenly disappears, leaving him empty and erect. “Well time for the cunt.” He reaches over and grabs the toy, the pastel pink makes his cock pop in comparison. “Look at how cute this toy is,” his tone is condescending, it oozes out with sickly sweet intent and hearing it makes his stomach churn, “bet this is the cutest cunt around and it isn’t even real.” He glances at the chat and smirks when an influx of people comment that theirs is cute or even cuter while others tell him to fuck the toy already. Eyes move upwards and the corners of his lips twitch into a small smile. The money is continuously rising. “All right, all right. Let me get comfortable.” </p><p>He sits down, the chair squeaking underneath him. He lifts a bare leg and places it on the desk where it’s partly hidden from view But the real  show is where he’s spread out, his cock standing and awaiting the attention it desires while the deep cherry color spreads and colors him. Creamy, white lube is squirted onto his dick. Curses are uttered by the sheer contract of temperature, and soon it’s muffled out by the clicking noises. His shaft is lubed up and wet, shining in the light and it drips down, coating the seat. He grabs the flesh light and with toes curled, he sheaths it onto himself, throwing his head back and letting out a breathy moan. </p><p>“I take it back. The cunt does it’s work just right,” he breaths out, fucking himself slowly, taking the fleshlight off until it covers his cockhead and drags it back down, allowing everyone to see.</p><p>The lube makes the toy look like it’s creaming, thick white substance gushes on his cock, lewd squelching sounds filling the room. His cock aches inside the toy, the ridges inside hug his member, grazes every vein with a gentle caress that makes him want to bite his bottom lip and hump the toy until he’s spilling. </p><p>He peeks out the corner of his eye and holds back a smile. He slows down his speed, and leading to a stop, his cock buried deep in the toy. “You know, how about this? Next ten seconds, whoever bets the most, I’ll do what you want.” He squeezes the toy, the curves pressing against him. “Within reason of course.” He throws his head back and holds the toy down, his fingers coursing up his body and tweaking at his nipples.</p><p>“10.” Gentle rubbing. “9.” He can feel glimmers of pleasure. “8.” His cock hurts and he wants to cum. “7.” Was ten seconds too long? “6.” God he hopes he gets to cum with whoever bet. “5.” Oh god what if no one bet? “4.” That would be fucking embarrassing. “3.” He lets out a high pitched whine through pouted lips. “2.” His hands lower and grip the fleshlight. “1.” He opens his eyes and narrows them at the screen. “Well, let’s see who won.” There’s a smirk on his lips and his voice is sultry and low. </p><p>The toy continues with a slow speed. “Well, would you look at that.” He chuckles. “My self-proclaimed biggest fan.” His eyebrows raise and in the depths of his stomach, he feels a heavy weight. “Degrade yourself?” His voice is laced with curiosity and hesitation.</p><p>He swallows the lump in his throat and nods to himself. “Okay.” His voice is low and for a second he’s forgotten that he’s performing. He blinks his eyes and smirks at the camera. “Oh doll, get ready to hear fucked up shit.” </p><p>He grips his toy and takes a deep breath. “Fuck, why y’all would pay to see me Idon’t even know.” The speed is slow, teasing enough for him to lurch into the toy. “I mean, there’s a reason I fuck toys and not people.” He has to hold himself back to prevent him from picking up the pace. “You think anyone even wants this? Some fucking pale, lanky bitch that can barely stand straight?” He bites the inside of his cheeks. “I fucking hunch every where I go.” He glances at the camera and feels his face burn with embarrassment. Hearts are popping up of all colors and insults are being thrown at him. Cyan eyes glint dangerously. “I swear, this is the only action I’ll ever get, from a bunch of fucks who will pay this bitch to bust one out.” A lump is beginning to form in the middle of his throat. “What else did you want me to degrade myself about? How I’m selling myself for cash? How the last person to actually fuck me did it for a bet? For fucking clout?” He snaps his mouth shut and picks up the pace, the pastel colors blurring together. “God, all I’m worth is to either stuff something or be stuffed. And y’all know that. That’s what you pay for. To see me fuck something and to cum on my chest.” His eyes burn and he’s aware that he’s hitting too close for comfort. But the show must go on. “I’m gonna cum in this fucking toy until I’m limp.” He brings his leg down and leans towards the camera, his upper lip curling in disgust, twisting handsome features into something ugly. “You wanted me to degrade myself? Well what better way until I’m crying and my dick is limp inside of a cum filled toy.” He scoffs and brushes his hair back. </p><p>His eyes narrow as he reads the comments, a mix of words of encouragement, praises, and insults bleed together and he stares at his self-proclaimed biggest fan who keeps tossing money at him, telling him to make himself cry.</p><p>He sees red and fucks the fleshlight. His dick slipping out and flicking a mix of pre-cum and lube at his chest. “I’m no good. I’m fucking worthless. All that I’m good for is for my cock and using it on screen.” His cheeks burn and his bottom lip quivers. The toy is the only source of pleasure at the very moment. “This fake cunt is gonna be the best fuck for me for a long time,” he spits out. The heat in him is intense, vision begins to blur and he can feel hot tears in the corners of his eyes, the lump  in his throat is making it hard to breath and he’s gasping for air. His cock twitches and begs for release, it burns him up from within. He lets out a choked moan that sounds too close to a sob. “Fuck!” His eyebrows pinch together. “I’m gonna cum!” He peeks through one eye and looks at the screen, giving off an uncharacteristically soft smile, before he shuts them tight and pulls off the toy. He grips his shaft tight in his hands and pumps himself, his head thrown back. Hot streaks of cum paint his chest. His chest is heaving with a rosy blush spreading throughout his body, the streaks of white standing out. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, his leg jerking when he continues to pump himself through his high, his member tingling with pleasure.</p><p>Piers is on screen in a laid back position with his cock out for a moment too long before he takes a shuddering breath. He picks himself up and gives the camera a lazy grin with a face that has dared to look exasperated by the whole ordeal. “You all got the money shot. Hope you enjoyed it.” He winks at the camera and takes a slim finger and swipes at the gooey substance and presses it against his fingers. “Bet y’all would pay for my loads, eh?” He rises up and stretches, his cock semi hard and quivering. “Hope that was enough degradation for you.” He gives off a cheeky grin to the camera. “Well, that’s it for tonight. If anyone would like to purchase a one-on-one session, drop me a DM, will ya?” The cum on his chest is beginning to cool and underneath the camera, he drags his fingers across his thigh, wiping the cum off. “Till next time.” The camera shuts off and he leans harshly against the chair, making it roll until his heels drag onto the floor. </p><p>Hair is fluttered across his face and he blows it out of the way. “I’m gonna order a pizza,” he says to none and rises with reluctance, grabbing a towel.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Cold Coffee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You want Piers to be nicer to himself.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Piers sits in a simple decorated cafe, wooden floors, cozy chairs, tables decorated with a doily, circular with intricate designs crocheted onto it. His breath is forced, raspy and feeling as if it’s going down wrong, choking him as if this were his first time breathing. His soft blue eyes can’t seem to meet yours, every time you enter his vision, he looks away rapidly and forces himself to look back down at his drink.</p><p>There’s a nervous tapping of his leg, bouncing and causing the table to shake and no matter how often he tries to force his leg to stop, to place his hands above his thigh and press down but no matter how hard or often he does it, his leg still jerks back, bouncing making the disposable cups shake in their place. He flashes you an apologetic smile, strained and more of a wince than anything else and immediately pulls it back, swallowing nervously, the apple in the throat feeling heavy as it bobs.</p><p>His face burns, a deep shade of red darkening his cheeks with ears that burn as equally as hot, and he regrets ordering a warm drink. Wispy steam rises out of the gap, the stark white lid holds drops of his drink. His lips are incredibly dry, chapped and he wants to reach into his pocket to grab at his chapstick, to fiddle with something other than his hands.</p><p>“As much as I enjoy sitting down with you-” he takes a sharp gasp at the sound of your voice, nails tapping against the table in a startled tap- “Woah-” you eyes go wide as your hands dart to his hands- “relax Piers, I just wanted to talk- nothing too serious or anything. I swear by it.” As if to show your honestly, you raise your hand, palm flat against the air. “I’m sure you have a lot of concerns- to be fair, I would to- so is there anything you’d like to address first?”</p><p>There’s a lot that he wants to address. Words that spin his mind so fast, passing and forming into a blur before he has the time to process them. Words that scream in his mind for attention, screaming so loud that he can already feel a headache forming at the base of his head and creeping up. His nails scratch at the table, curling and sliding the napkin, small tears ripping it apart. His tongue peeks out and wets his lips, eyes moving around the cafe, watching the patrons scurry along or sit down with their drinks. No one pays attention to him or to you. Someone meets his eyes and offers a welcoming smile and just as soon as it happened, the interaction ends and they return their attention to their phone.</p><p>“Piers?” Your voice startles him and his hand goes to his neck, rubbing at the tightness, his hand offering no help as it tightens around him. “Hey, are you okay?” He shoots you a pointed look, nails pointing into him in sharp pricks. “Okay, dumb question,” you nod slowly and your eyes glance down to his drink. “Listen, I get how overwhelming this could be but it was either this or an anonymous email. Frankly, I think this is the least stressful of the options.” Your hand slowly reaches over and grabs at his cup, pulling it close to yours. “Do you want me to speak first?”</p><p>“How the fuck did you find out?” His voice comes out in a croak, raspy and too broken to be taken seriously. The curse in his question doesn’t come off threatening, it comes off potable. He cringes at himself, his upper lip curling and his head dips, the hair that rests outside of his ponytail falls and once more, it’s much too hot. His hand falls to his lap and he desperately wishes he were outside.</p><p>“Do you want to go outside?” He whips his head to look at you where you clutch your drink in your palms. “You kind of look like you’re about to die so-” you dart your eyes to the outside, and he follows your gaze, the chill wind that brushes outside looks appealing- “outside?” He doesn’t answer and stays silent, still looking longingly at the outdoors, tears pricking in his eyes and he bites on his bottom lip. “If we go outside, there’s a less chance of people listening in on the conversation.” With that sentence, he rises from the table, chair squeaking as it drags across the floor and grabs his drink, not waiting for you to rise.</p><p>The air outside nips at his skin, the tip of his nose turning a soft shade of red, cheeks that bloom and make it easier to hide that it’s due to cold rather than his discomfort from the whole ordeal. He gives a glance to the door where you come through, shouldering it open with your drink in one hand. He watches as you hold the door open for a group of friends, giving a polite nod at their thanks. When you meet his eyes, the corner of his lips twitch and he turns on his heel walking through the thin crowd, ignoring the wandering eyes that linger on him a bit too long and immediately go for their phones. He hears your steps quicken, trying to keep up with his pace.</p><p>“So,” you trail, bringing the lid up to your lips.</p><p>“Quit the small talk,” he snaps, regretting bringing the drink along as he holds it tight in his grip. “How did you find out?” He narrows his eyes, brows furrowed into points with a scowl twisting his face.</p><p>You take a deep sigh and he can feel irritation nip at him, poisoning his words and wanting him to scream out of frustration. But instead he fumes as he walks, taking a sip of the warm drink, wishing that it would burn his throat to give him a reason to cry out.</p><p>“Well for starters, I haven’t told anyone.” He blinks owlishly at you and stops in his place. You take a few steps forward until you realize he isn’t following you and your turn around, gesturing with a nod of your head for him to follow. When he catches up to you, you continue speaking. “I’m not going to. I mean, as much as I would love to geek out with my friends about this- it isn’t my place.” He walks next to you in silence as you take another sip of your drink. “Second, I found out because well,” you chuckle nervously and now your face darkens, a hesitant smile on your lips and when you meet his eyes, you look away nervously, “I visited your old gym a while ago and uh, I heard you talking and I wasn’t looking at you and my mind put the voice together and when I saw you well,” you start to ramble, taking another sip of your drink, “it kind of put two and two together. I swear, I wasn’t actively looking for you but yeah. That’s how I knew and I’m guessing by your reaction, I was right and listen, I’m sorry about coming to you in public and just asking you about it- I definitely could have done that better but I wasn’t thinking and-”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” he interrupts, shaking his hand and taking another sip of his drink, his chest starting to feel light and anxiety slowly drifting. “Just- Why didn’t you keep it to yourself?”</p><p>“Oh-” you seem to shrink in on yourself and you both take a turn, the already thin crowd now dispersing only until a few people remain- “I watched your uh, stream,” you emphasize the word, tilting your head and pulling out a grimace, “and it- look, great work- really, I mean I pay for a reason and wow that sure is awkward to say out loud-” you laugh nervously taking a long sip from your drink and he can feel his face burn at the compliment- “but you know that stream where you got a donation to uh-” your eyes dart around the sidewalk and you lower your voice into a whisper- “jerk yourself and it- you said some mean things and-”</p><p>“Holy fuck,” he sighs, “you aren’t the one who should be nervous.” There’s a nervous tone that lingers on his voice, straining the words and even with the promise of you not spilling the fact of who he is to the public, there’s no trust that he has with you. “I’m the one whose livelihood can be ruined.”</p><p>“I’m not telling anyone.” You clear your throat. “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me and if I were in your shoes I don’t think I’d believe me either but I won’t tell.” You hold the drink and he watches through the corner of his eyes as you hesitantly bring it up to your lips, giving a small sip and pulling away the cup, nails digging into the material of the cup. “Look, the only reason I’m here now- oh! Think we can sit down? I’m getting a bit tired.” You point to an empty bench and right now he can’t deny you- he has to accept whatever you want to do. He nods and you give him a smile, walking alongside him towards the bench.</p><p>He sits next you with a sigh and watches as you fiddle with the- what he presumes- empty cup. You tilt it around, your index tracing along the logo. He has to admit- now that you rambled and even if the promise of not telling someone about his secret side gig is only based on your word- you don’t seem as intimidating as you did in the cafe. He isn’t as nervous, his body cooling down and even if the drink is now cold, he still drinks it, slow sips as you both sit in silence.</p><p>“Can I ask- Wait.” You look up at him with doe eyes. “Are you my biggest fan?”</p><p>You laugh and shake your head. “No, no. That isn’t to say I don’t enjoy your- uh, shows but I just got into you recently. Decided to splurge myself. I just happened to watch that show-”</p><p>“That one?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you.</p><p>Your lips pull into a frown and he raises a brow. “The one where you said bad things about yourself.”</p><p>“Oh,” he says in a whisper.</p><p>You nod. “Yeah, that one. So uh- yeah.” You look at him and move the empty cup upright. “Anything else?”</p><p>“Why’d you come up to me?” He asks quickly, words rushing out faster than he can process. “To get an autograph?” His tone becomes rougher. “Get to brag about it in the chat?” There’s a sharp edge to his words, cutting at his throat and past his lips. “The satisfaction to see me squirm?” He starts to spit the words out, his stomach a churning mess as his hand curls around the cup. “So you get to jerk off later about how you saw the guy behind the camera bitch and-”</p><p>“No,” you say in a defiant voice, your lips in a frown and a concerned look on your face. “I don’t-” you sigh and lean against the back of the bench- “I just- I didn’t like what you said to yourself that time.” He regards you with interest, raising a brow. “It wasn’t nice.” You turn to face him, your knee touching his and he’s still, shoulders hunching and drink held tight. “You might think or maybe that you just said it because you were getting paid for it but- there were mean comments that day and lately they seem to be getting er, louder or at least more apparent and like- listen, I just wanted you to know-” you look away from him, a hint of red dusting at your cheeks- “that I think you’re great. I uh, listen a bit to your music-” that gets his full attention on you, eyes that look at your nervous patter of your fingers drumming along the empty cup- “and I think you have a great voice and whether you meant it as a joke or for the topic at hand, there are like a bunch of people who would want to date you because in your earlier streams you seemed like a genuine guy and I saw you talk to the younger trainers and you were so nice to them and you’re a good guy and you probably don’t want like praise from a stranger but you’re a good person Piers. You’re a strong trainer and you have a good voice and you’re really handsome and yeah.” You clear your throat, and meet his eyes for a brief second before looking away. “I just thought you should hear something nice. You know, from a fan.” There’s a ghost of a smile that frames your face in a cute way.</p><p>He stares at you and he can feel warmth flood his face. Cyan eles glance down to where your knee meets his. The grip on the cup tightens and there’s a deep silence that surrounds the both of you. He wants to clear his throat and rise and walk away. The more that he talked to you the more that he realized that you pose no threat to him. Your rambling and nervous laughter showed your true colors and even if he didn’t want to hear the praise from a stranger, it is not unwelcomed. The words settle in his chest, making his chest hiccup and he scratches absentmindedly above his jacket.</p><p>“Thanks,” he mutters, dipping his head down to avoid looking at you, eyes darting to watch as your hands scratch at the logo only to soften into a soft grip. “I uh, appreciate the words.”</p><p>You don’t reply for a minute, your foot tapping above a crack on the sidewalk. “Just thought it would be nice for you to hear something good about yourself.” There’s another pause and it’s broken when you rise from the bench with a groan. He startles and looks up at you. “I’ll uh, see you at your next show? I doubt I can but if you do another bet- maybe this time it could be praise?” You give him a soft smile and his apple bobs in his throat.</p><p>“Yeah, no, uh,” he clears his throat. “Yeah.” He clicks his tongue and brings the drink close to him. “I’ll see you then.”</p><p>You bounce on your heels and hold the drink at your side. “Uh, listen, if you ever want to talk again, I uh,” you rummage around your bag and pull out a pen and old receipt, writing on the back of you, you hand him the receipt, a set of numbers written on the back in neat handwriting. “You don’t have to obviously but yeah. Whatever you want.” You give him a wave of your hand, fingers curling into your palm. “See you later, Piers.”</p><p>He holds the receipt tight in his hand and gives you a soft wave. “Yeah, I’ll see you- or you’ll see me then.” His eyes dart and he spots a couple walking towards the both of you. The receipt crinkles in his fist and he clears his throat. “I’ll think about it.” he gives a raise of the hand that holds the receipt.</p><p>You shrug and smile encouragingly at him. “Do whatever you have to do.” You raise your hand, waving him goodbye and with a final smile, you look both ways before crossing the street and Piers is left alone watching as you quickly jog across the street disappear down the sidewalk on the other side.</p>
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